Chapter Twenty-Eight
Romy
O ur kiss defies time and all reason. It works to silence all my rampant thoughts. I’m lost in the taste of him, finding enjoyment in our game of pretend. In fact, I’m having trouble figuring out what’s real and what’s fabricated.
It all feels real right now.
That’s what he wants.
It’s all a game to him.
Clarity races to the forefront when his hand caresses the skin bared beneath the slit of my dress. His touch on my upper thigh sends goose bumps scattering all over me.
Stop him.
I should stop him.
His hand inches under the material, delicately brushing his fingertips along the edge of my thong, and I don’t stop him. In fact, I whimper with need instead.
What’s wrong with me?
He bites on my bottom lip, tugging until it stings. It distracts me from what he’s doing under my dress. When I feel his fingers pushing past the edge of the fabric, touching the tender flesh between my thighs, I gasp in surprise.
“Cai,” I groan, panting heavily. “Don’t.”
He pulls away from our kiss, dark eyes flaring with heat, and slowly nods. Our eyes lock as he boldly slides his finger along my slit. I’m supposed to push him away here and tell him no. Again. Yet I meet his gaze, gasping at his expert touch.
His finger slides lower and his mouth twists into a wolfish grin. I’m wet. He touches the evidence of my arousal, gleefully playing in it. Worse, I want it. I want more of whatever it is he’s doing. It’s a distraction from the awful things I’ve witnessed. He’s offering me my only escape since they took me that fateful night.
Mouth back on mine, devouring me with possessive, feral need, he pushes his thick finger inside of my body. The stretching burn of the intrusion makes my knees weak. I hook my leg around his ass and thread my fingers together behind his neck. With one hand on my ass, lifting me off the floor, he slowly fucks my body with his finger.
I’m at his mercy.
Impaled on his manly finger, a subject of his wicked ministrations.
“More,” I whimper against his mouth. “Please.”
He slips his finger out, massages my clit until I start to tremble, then slides two fingers back inside of me. It feels good and too much all at once. I’m suddenly imagining this man—my captor—taking my virginity on this very wall.
Would it hurt?
Would he be gentle?
His fingers fuck roughly inside me, going as deep as my body will allow. All because I begged for it. It kind of hurts, but there’s also a place inside me that he keeps touching that makes my body jolt alive as though I’ve stepped on a charged wire.
“Right there,” I find myself hissing. “Ah. Yes. There.”
He slides a third finger into my body, and it makes me whimper. It’s painful. I think I feel my body tearing or maybe it’s my imagination. Regardless, it takes the fun out of it. I tense up in his arms.
“This virgin hole needs work,” he murmurs, movements going slower. “You think you want to get fucked with a big cock like mine, but your tight little body can’t take it. Not yet. You’re inexperienced and you’ll need me to stretch you if you want to find any pleasure in the act.”
I don’t want to sleep with him.
Five seconds ago, you imagined him railing you.
Heat burns hot on my cheeks, and I nod in agreement. He slides the third finger out and continues probing the lovely spot inside of me with just two fingers that makes me dizzy. It doesn’t take much longer until he brings me over the edge, crashing into a delicious orgasm. My body shudders violently as the pleasure consumes me. Caius doesn’t stop the circling of his fingertips while devouring my mouth in earnest. It’s not until he takes me into another shuddering wave of pleasure that I can’t take it any longer. The sensations are too overwhelming.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I chant in a whisper. “Please.”
He pulls back and slides his fingers out of me. “You’re a good little girl. Now you can have what you want.”
What do I want again?
Megan.
I want to talk to Megan.
A cold shower of reality washes over me as Caius moves my panties back in place and lowers my leg. I stand, shaking and turned on, as he rights my dress. I’m still reeling from the act when my eyes lock onto Gareth’s. He storms past us, muttering something unintelligible as he passes. Caius doesn’t acknowledge him or indicate that he feels bad for doing that to me with witnesses nearby.
Was that whole show for Gareth’s benefit?
Of course it was. I’m the stupid girl who got caught up in the game of pretend.
“Come on,” Caius says, taking hold of my hand, wet fingers interlocking with mine. “I have a promise to fulfill.”
The trek back to our room is a blur as I sift through my emotions. I want to feel angry and disgusted at his touch, but it’s far from the truth. I’d liked his kissing and touches. The man plays my body like it’s something he’s practiced on all his life. Is that how sex will be with him? An act where I lose all touch with reality? Is that part of his plans to mentally dominate me?
Once inside our room, he heads to the bathroom. While he’s gone, I quickly shed the dress and heels, then pull on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank. Caius grunts from beyond the door.
Is he getting himself off?
My cheeks burn hot and I can’t ignore the throb in my core. Sleeping with him is not an option. I can’t do it no matter how much my body wants it. If I have any hope of escaping the Crowne chains I’m in, it has to be a hard limit of mine.
He’s an evil piece of this dark game I’m in.
I can’t forget that.
The toilet flushes and I can hear the sink turn on. After a few minutes, he returns, tie in hand and shirt fully unbuttoned. His heated gaze rakes over my pajamas and he shakes his head as if he’s annoyed with me.
For what, I have no idea.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, tugging the hair tie out, letting my blond hair fall to my shoulders. “Call her.”
He studies me for a beat and then walks over to the desk where his laptop sits. I wait impatiently as he taps away on his screen. Then I hear the distinct sound through the speaker of a line ringing.
“Hello?”
The familiar voice seizes my heart. It’s been forever since I heard Megan’s voice. I didn’t realize until now how much I missed her. Tears flood my eyes and I quickly blink them back. I slide off the bed and rush over to his side so I can see the screen.
Megan, wearing a lot of artfully done makeup and looking far more sophisticated than I remember, stares vacantly at us. Is this real or is it another one of Caius’s tricks?
“Someone wants to speak to you,” Caius says to her and stands. “Be good, little girl.”
He smacks my butt softly as he passes. I shoot him a nasty glare despite the thrill of heat rushing through me. As soon as I settle in the desk chair, I gape at Megan, unable to form words.
“Are you okay?”
Megan’s eyebrows pinch slightly. “I am.”
“Thank God,” I rush out. “I’ve been worried sick. Did they hurt you?”
This time she frowns. “Who?”
“Them,” I say, shooting Caius another dirty look. “The Crownes.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Jerking my head back to look at Megan, I try to make sense of what she’s saying. She seems genuinely confused at my question.
“They kidnapped you,” I remind her. “Everyone played along in saying you dropped out of college. They must’ve paid them or something.”
Megan’s face turns neutral. “But I did drop out.”
I bark out a laugh, only to realize she’s not joking.
“No, you didn’t,” I retort, irritation rising inside me. “They took you and brainwashed you in their CUP program.”
Caius makes no moves to stop me from revealing their secrets.
He’s a bold criminal.
“No one brainwashed me,” Megan says curtly. “I’ve been given tools to help me be a more confident, successful woman.” She narrows her eyes, which meet mine without wavering, a new skill she must’ve learned recently. “I’m sorry, but why is this any of your business?”
Her words are a painful strike, much more impactful and bruising than the one Gareth gave me.
“You’re my friend,” I utter softly. “I care about what’s happened to you.”
She’s no longer shy and awkward. There’s a ferocity to her that didn’t exist before. Confidence exudes from her as if she’s always had it.
“Friend?” She laughs and shakes her head. “We had what, one class together? I barely remember you. Rochelle, is it?”
I blink several times, trying to decide if she’s being for real.
She is.
I’m not imagining our friendship. We were partnered up on the project and became fast friends. She disappeared and I didn’t let up on my quest to find her.
It was real.
Our friendship was freaking real.
Why is she being unnecessarily cruel as if to hurt me on purpose?
“Romy,” I whisper. “You’re remembering wrong. I’m going to get you out of there.”
Megan scoffs, anger flashing in her eyes. “Get me out of where? Out of my life where I’m finally happy? Girl, you’re delusional.”
She’s happy?
Behind her is a dark mahogany bed frame. I can’t see anything else. What if she’s in a prison and being held under duress?
Her features soften and she gives me a grim smile. “Look. I can see you’re upset about…whatever kind of relationship it is you think we had.” She waves a manicured hand to gesture between us. I note that she’d always been a nail biter, but these nails with fanciful artwork must’ve cost a fortune that she never had. She continues with a sigh. “I’ve moved on from my old life. I’m no longer a moth. I’m a butterfly.”
“You were never a moth to me,” I say softly.
She opens her mouth to respond, but another voice enters the room she’s in.
“Meg,” a deep voice says, amusement in his tone. “You’re not dressed yet? Our friends are waiting at the pub. Come on, babe. Throw on something sexy and let’s go.”
I don’t see the face, but I know the voice.
It cuts like a thousand razor blades, deep and long, forever scarring me.
The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
Agonizing hurt consumes me.
“I gotta go,” Megan says, a guilty look on her face. “Tell Caius bye for me.”
The screen goes black, and I’m left staring at the empty screen. Tears spill from my eyes, no doubt tracking mascara in their wake. An ache in my chest makes it hard to breathe. With my fist, I tap the center of my chest, hoping to beat some air into my lungs.
Thoughts spiral out of control and the room spins.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
This isn’t reality. It’s a dream. I’m having a stupid dream.
Maybe I’m still in my childhood closet, hiding from the evil that lurks about, making up stories in my head to entertain myself and pass the time.
I shake my head back and forth as if to clear the confusion from my mind. All it does is make the throbbing inside my head intensify.
Can’t I just go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare already?
“Something wrong?” Caius asks, voice cold and knowing.
I hate him.
I hate this man with my entire being.
Without looking at him, I rise from the desk chair and stumble toward the bed, desperate to disappear under the covers, hide from this world.
Before I can climb into the bed, Caius grips my hips with his hands. A flare of explosive fury has me whirling on him, eager to pour all my wrath onto him.
“Just when were you going to tell me?” I demand, voice rising as more tears flood my eyes. “When?”
“Tell you what?” he implores, eyes narrowing to slits.
He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
The sick bastard gets off on torturing me. He wants me to say it.
“Just when were you going to tell me Bastian was involved in your twisted bullshit?”
My own brother.
I don’t understand.
It’s a betrayal beyond my comprehension.